Sanctuary

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4th May 2010

12:31am: Broiled Grouper from scratch in 30 min. or less1 lb Filet style White Fish [grouper, red snapper, trout. We are talking about thin filets, not cod or tuna steaks]3 tsp margarine [a little less than 2 slices... a good butter stick has measurements on the side for you]3 oz chardonay [feel free to simply fill up a wine glass, start sipping and pour gradually until you have some amount]fresh ground black peppercayenne pepperolive tapanade [suck it up, if you don't like olives... it's good on bread, and it'll be good on this god damnit]1/2 lemon 1 dry basmati rice to cookify

Turn on your oven and let it preheat to 500 degrees while you proceed.

To get the rice started, throw some water into a pot and pour in the rice... AT ROOM TEMPERATURE. There's a lot of debate that says wait until it's boiling. I'm saying do it at room temperature because I want it to be cooking while you're doing other stuff. Multi-task people.

Surprisingly healthy sauceWhile this is happening, take a large pan and add your butter / margarine. Simmer on VERY LOW HEAT until it has just melted. Add in about half of your wine. Now... What this does is two fold. 1. Your sauce isn't 3 tsps anymore... [additive property of sauces] 2. The acid in the wine is going to change the flavor of the butter / margarine in a remarkable way. It should almost have a tang by the time your done. Crunch in some of that black pepper. Okay... a little more. I love my black pepper. and just a LITTLE BIT of the cayenne. By this time, I don't care how fast you were, it's time to add more wine... [leave a bit of that glass for later, we have a third phase later]

Sear the Fish...CAREFUL with this part. I do not want you burning that butter... but you need to quickly raise the temperature [best on a gas stove] and flash that fish. The object of this is to give a little bit of color to the outside of the fish and get some of that beautiful pepper into it as well. If you spend more than a minute on each side... you've wasted too much time. Once you've finished, immediately drop the temperature, add the last of the wine and a bit of pepper and move on to prepping the fish for broiling.

Prepping for BroilingYou should begin to really have nice scents in your kitchen by now. Sprinkle some cayenne pepper on the fish and use the lemon to smear it about. I'm never able to evenly shake out the cayenne so this allows you to spread the cayenne... HOPEFULLY without touching it. Put a bit of the tapenade on each of the filets, squeeze the last of the lemon juice on the filets and push them in the oven.

Finishing up the rice Slice the lemon and squeeze a quarter into the rice. pour the buttery chardonay sauce into the rice [you should still have SOME boiling off to do anyway... if not? you do now. I suppose saffron would be nice in this, for color, but I've yet to try it... and currents]

At this point, you may be wondering what to do?Set your plates and start serving rice and grapes. Your last step is coming up which is just to drop the fish on the bed of rice. You should have five minutes to twiddle your thumbs, drink a soda, whatever...

Bing!Viola. Go eat.FYI, if you stick to the recipe, including the grapes, you've hit about 550 cals for your meal. Not too much protein because it's a boring fish, but some tremendous flavors, and great for digesting in the evening.

23rd April 2009

1:54am: going away.
I remember the drive over and me trying to figure out which jacket to wear as I got out of my car and not knowing what to do and then... well then I saw you, and I stopped worrying. I stopped caring. and I realized happiness in a moment. My love and peace to you in the coming months. Warm and prayers and all the luck in the world. Love forever.

27th February 2008

12:43am: Out of control
She's slid in between my skin and my pants with a smile. A twinkle in her eye and a slight laugh as she reaches into my soul. Lips parted slightly, glistening with sirah and a moon that hangs above the ocean water. An empty bottle sits between us, her hands sliding along the neck and we hold the moment, drawing it out, as drip by drip it sullies the clarity of vision into a clarity of mind you can only hope to explain while drunk. A perfect moment: the moment before the kiss. The moment of critical mass as you see her,you hear in the air and touch with your fingertips, smelling of fresh smoke , that tongue tasting every inch of her body before you even lean in. The beauty of pressing that moment, pushing it to it's bursting point before letting every element line up inside of two swirling minds, agents of the universe expressing that perfect moment of love, need, sex, want, fear, hate, passion... Passion. As she slides effortlessly into sleep wrapped around my leg, I get up to put on my pants. Decide against it. The mirror on the ceiling stares back at the soul that I used to know, the soul that used to have such life in it. Before the graduation, before the job, before needing a one and a half valium to get to sleep. Her breathing is even and steady. An angel of momentary life, now an empty shell, an aborted moment of pleasure and pain. I don't know what to think anymore. And then she opens her eyes for just a moment. That smile that sidled up beside me and surprised me the night I met her. I don't know what the universe was hinting at that night, but perhaps it was this moment.

---I lied down as she rolled onto my chest. I couldn't have stared at that mirror for more than thirty seconds before I fell asleep.

8th February 2008

A cup of coffee sat on Ms. Jennifer Grice's desk. It was raining outside like it had for the last four days on end. Something was very peculiar about the young girl in the next room that was waiting for her. It was only made just so peculiar by how un-peculiar she was. In observation, she was a very average thirteen year old girl. She played with the other children. She spelled better than the boys in her class. She was not exceedingly brilliant, but nothing about her could be called dull by any means. She was average. Her drawings were a bit queer, as she'd never met a young girl who should be concentrated on time so much.

Her parents brought her here four days prior, but refused to comment on the specifics of why. She's "acting quite odd" and "has been very quiet". The director of the hospital told her that she wasn't to ask the parents any questions as they were "very respected" and "couldn't be bothered" by the problems of their daughter in an election year. She assumed there was a great amount of money in her family.

She collected the drawings into a loose stack and proceeded in to have her first session with the young girl.

Jennifer smiled as she entered the room. "Hello! And how are we doing this afternoon?" The girl looked up from her drawing in what Jennifer assumed was a very skeptical look of confusion.The girl looked down at her drawing and continued with long strokes "I suppose we won't know until we both have answered, but I am having a super day... cooped up inside..." Jennifer took a mental step back as she remembered that the girl was thirteen, and not six. "Well, I'm actually doing well. I'm curious as to what your drawing there..."The girl raised her head up and cocked it to her left as if she was sizing the woman up. "It's a clock. Like the one on the wall. And the one on your desk. I'm sure you've noticed at least one of them before."Jennifer was not prepared for this. She was... precocious, to put it politely, and there was not nearly enough coffee to smudge that away."I'm Ms. Grice, but you can call me Jennifer." She smiled, slightly afraid of the reply that she would get from her young subject. It was highly unwarranted fear as the girl continued on with her drawing without pausing. "Why do you draw clocks?"The girl grimaced as she continued to draw the hands, "Because he was late"."Is time important to you?""It's not important to me, it was important to him""Well your father can't always visit you on time for visiting hours, sweetheart"

The girl continued on sullenly, as she answered "He isn't my father, silly".Jennifer wondered whether there was a problem in the family. Oftentimes, she'd seen problems with children who had grown up not associating one's family with love and thus needing to separate the lack of attention from the role. "Of course he's your father--"The girl spoke over her to interject, "Not daddy, the rabbit-". The girl stopped as if she was suddenly very scared or very smart to not say anything more. She was hiding something.

The two sat in silence as they looked at each other.Jennifer broke the silence.

7th February 2008

It wasn't cold out this morning. In fact, Henry felt little to nothing as he stepped past his sliding glass door to the balcony outside. The engine from a streetsweeper whined far below him as he stared into the bleak morning break. The sky stared pale into his face daring him to find something less interesting. He wasn't up to the challenge. Today was EarthDay Jan 4, and it was his birthday. He smiled at himself. How ironic. Three mostly melted ice cubes rang in his caramel colored glass as the last of the scotch lazily sunk along the sides.

They already knew what would happen and it was his job to bring the news. He sipped the last of the twelve years hoping to forget what they had all come to know as the day in and day out. He turned out of the balcony and walked back into his quarters. The balcony, no more than a psychological way of keeping the ship's crew subdued and tranquil while babysitting a computer controlled hulk over the course of twenty years.

The Talo Majorieu was the third of it's kind. All civilian, all ex-military, all sharing one destiny. Of course they didn't know twelve years ago that destiny would be to receive their last transmission from earth ten years into the trip. The politics of continuing communication with the ship of a country you had slaughtered the populace of, was, to be said succinctly, non-profitable.

--- He dressed

Called to order the twenty-eight members of the Talo Majorieu's crew sat sullenly around the outside of Lounge C. Tion and Leslie drooped low over their own private bottles.

-Today isn't the best of days. Chief Technician Leron has confirmed that the shock of the shower that pelted our solar dishes removed power to a substancial portion of our life support. The electrical fire that ensued would not have been enough to take out our critical stations, had it been handled differently. The decision to quickly burn it out by opening up the airlock in Vent 3G was made to stop the fire from spreading to the engine room. An improperly bracketted shelving unit wedged itself into the airlock door removing 20% of the rest of the ships oxygen. Critical life support - this includes heat exchange, water recycling, medical cooling, pressure systems for blocks A and B, and ... air-recycling - was damaged beyond- [ he choked as he sipped a glass of water] - These systems were damaged beyond repair. Yes, Dr. Rosen?Dr. Rosen hesitated just a moment before the question passed his lips. "Are we losing oxygen? The plants should be enough to survive."-Dr. Rosen, let me continue. As you all will remember, farming is in block B. To maintain pressure for the rest of the ship, it was locked down. There is currently 0% atmosphere in Blocks A or B. May I continue... [he paused only a moment, clear that the topic was straining him. His kerchief that he kept in his left pocket came to his forhead slowly as he tilted it to the side.]Dr. Rosen broke in with his followup question, "How much oxygen do we have?" With so many brilliant minds in the room, this is what was asked.-If we continue, with the supposition that all duties will be cancelled to allow for leisure and collection of thought, we have oxygen to last for approximately fifty-six hours.[He was very precise that he answered exactly his question and nothing more.]-Ladies and gentlemen, your country has been abandoned and we've made this ship our home for twelve years. The last two years, you've come together as a tight knit family and I consider you my brothers and sisters more than my subordinates. Knowing full well that we would not reach a final port aboard this ship, we have made the best of tenuous circumstances, and I thank you for every day you've spent, every bead of blood you've sweat. [He choked once again and stopped, looking down at his sleave suddenly as if it were the most important thing in the universe. He paused as he regained his composure.] I don'... you...Geoffrey Prism spoke up from the rear of the lounge. "Sir... the heaters..."He began to speak very stearnly. Cold. Exact. Meticulously framing each sylable-My crew will not suffocate making final gasps of thinly reprocessed air. Within four hours, this vessel will slip to below freezing temperatures. Your skin will begin to feel tingly until you no longer feel anything at all. As hypothermia slips in, you will begin to feel warm. The ship's heater will not fix itself. You will slip into the second stage of hypothermia. As you begin to feel more sluggish, you will lose muscle control in your body's effort to keep the internal organs warm. It will fail. A wave of euphoria may last for some of you until you forget to breathe your last breath. Minutes after you've actually stopped breathing your brain will cease to function.

Silence filled the room. As clocks ticked in thirty genius brains, each stumbled to say something then caught themselves realizing the flaw in some plan they'd thought of. There was no hope.

Henry pulled a cigarette curiously from his pocket. As he twitched to light the rolled tobacco he caught himself -I kept these for twelve years for this day.He turned to walk from the lounge. "Captain... I-" Henry's hand slammed into the door cutting off his sentence... -Thank you all for serving as my crew. I'm sorry.- The door closed behind him as he passed down the corridor to his quarters and back onto his balcony.

The lounge was as earily quiet as the captain had left minutes before. A single hollow clap came from down the hallway where the captain had retreated to. The reverberation of the noise was unmistakable as anything but a .22.

Leslie opened her eyes, suddenly sick to her stomach. This ship encompassed their lives for twelve years and would bury them all.

21st January 2008

3:08am: is it a challenge or is it impossible?
set your goals high so you can reach the stars... I follow it in business all the time. and it works. But let's talk about relationships for a bit. Actually. I'm not comfortable with this topic.That's the realization of the night.

I'm consistently emotionally unavailable. I don't really know what else to say about this... Ladies, I'm apparently not in the market. And... I'm really not sure if I ever was. Realistically, this is honesty at 3am.

"what do you look for in a relationship" -- unattainable qualifications(must possess one or more of the following qualities): has a boyfriend lesbian100 miles away[perfect distance: close enough to believe that one of us will make an effort, far enough that no one does]diametrically opposed to my way of lifesexually promiscuous[I have trust issues with people who aren't monogamous]emotionally unavailableasexual

30th December 2007

4:38pm: Clockwork
She was in another world as the chemicals traced through her system. Like a mixture of adrenaline, dopamine, and chocolate, traved through her nerves starting from the roots of her hair and spidering down and out of her head, through her spine and into the tips of her tops, curling them. .She turned to leave after the final word was said. Things were as they should be. He still stood, hard as stone as the door closed. Then he cried.

--- Three years before ---

The last sip of the gin was always the finest. A vinegar salt slur on her parted lips as the olive slipped down the side of her glass. Thirteen thousand behind in paying her contractors and a car payment behind in her own personal finances. Work had finished up way too early that night. She had shown up to sign a few checks and check in with the accountant. So much for quarterly profits. It wasn't anything unexpected. Tides turn and go back and forth. Still something lingered on her mind about the meeting she had with a gentleman from the Association. He showed some promise. Perhaps things would move forward as planned. Then again, maybe not. At least she'd get dinner out of it.

--- The heart of Betrayal ---

Betrayal isn't a simple matter. To truly betray someone is an art. It is an intricate piece of clockwork as things fall into place and teeth push against each other to move the right arms in their orbit around their center. Saying your at the market when you're out with another man, putting the dog down instead of taking him to a pleasant farm. These simple things are a tool. It's the gun that fires the bullet into a man's chest. As the tip pierces his skin, his thoughts may be on the sound of the gun or the person who pulled the trigger, but it is the bullet that tears through his heart. The funny thing is that as that bullet pushes ribs until they crack, bursting through into the chest cavity, penetrating the lung and eventually puncturing the heart, for those last few moments before his last breath has poured from his body, he thinks of the action behind it.

True betrayal is much deeper than the lie. It takes time. A lie is a moment, a single sliver of a seventeen tiered cake. The betrayal takes a power that lies over and above anything that a single lie could do. It is simple to tell someone that something isn't true. But to take a belief and in a moment, shatter it like glass, so that it can't ever be recognized for what it was; that is the true difficulty of betrayal. Betrayal is so beautiful because it takes two completely pure and opposite things and marries them together, forever changing them both in a cacophony of light and dark, hate and love, true rage and tranquility. Cold. Calculating. Clockwork.

26th December 2007

9:35pm: so, my profile picture
relatively accurate... I've now cut my hair back to that length. tomorrow it'll be back to it's "natural blonde" *cough cough* and i suppose the five oclock shadow will be coming in ... oh... saturday? sunday? hahacheers and merry christmas to all

25th December 2007

1:41am: I Am A: Lawful Good Human Paladin/Sorcerer (2nd/2nd Level)

Ability Scores:

Strength-14

Dexterity-12

Constitution-17

Intelligence-17

Wisdom-14

Charisma-17

Alignment:Lawful Good A lawful good character acts as a good person is expected or required to act. He combines a commitment to oppose evil with the discipline to fight relentlessly. He tells the truth, keeps his word, helps those in need, and speaks out against injustice. A lawful good character hates to see the guilty go unpunished. Lawful good is the best alignment you can be because it combines honor and compassion. However, lawful good can be a dangerous alignment because it restricts freedom and criminalizes self-interest.

Race:Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

Primary Class:Paladins take their adventures seriously, and even a mundane mission is, in the heart of the paladin, a personal test an opportunity to demonstrate bravery, to learn tactics, and to find ways to do good. Divine power protects these warriors of virtue, warding off harm, protecting from disease, healing, and guarding against fear. The paladin can also direct this power to help others, healing wounds or curing diseases, and also use it to destroy evil. Experienced paladins can smite evil foes and turn away undead. A paladin's Wisdom score should be high, as this determines the maximum spell level that they can cast. Many of the paladin's special abilities also benefit from a high Charisma score.

Secondary Class:Sorcerers are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.

17th December 2007

4:14pm: yay!!! do IT!
I don't do this... but I guess I'll jump on board. there's a band wagon. I'll play guitar1) Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.2) I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.3) I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.4) I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.5) I'll tell you my first memory of you.6) I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.7) I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.8) If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

3rd December 2007

9:30pm: aftermath
It was really difficult sleeping. It all happened so fast this time I didn't get a chance to cool down. It started the same as always, but this time it the shoes were blue. Something so simple. But it was off.

I turned the doorknob to the room 894. Unlocked as always, it was silent as I entered the room. The shower was running and steam started to fill the room. As I walked to the balcony the light shifted and it was dark. The shower was off and the sound of the slow restful breathing of the couple post coitus. Then the shoes. They were ... not red.

There was no rabbit in the drawer. It did not lead me down the rabbit hole. It was different. Suddenly the room was cold. Something had changed. The dream hasn't ended.

24th November 2007

1:07am: the hatchet
what if it was as big as a mountainhow do you fill the grand canyon with dirtor bury mt. whitney in salt?where do you start?

so I bought a magic hammer and I hammered out a nailand I built the biggest shipwith the grandest sailto take us up a riverwith quick and rushing currentsand guide us through the swamp landswith long and winding serpents that bite and gnash and tearinto frail but fighting fleshtwo boat captains trying hardto make their compass meshwe'll go south, we'll go northand so on and so forthbut we're in just one shipand we're in it togetherto try through the darkand the wet stormy weatherand even though it sunk beforeI'm not looking for a door so let's take a trip together and damn it all to hellI'll give it my last dollarwhen we've got nothing left to sellbut the shirts off our backsand the food in our sacks.We'll do it like we did beforeand this time so much bettereven though we don't know where to gowe're doin' it together.

8th November 2007

8:44pm: and now we're paying it back with interest
with the little that's left of our hearts and soulscan we repair the cracks and the holes?can it ever be what it once was when we had so much to losebefore the time had gone by and let our muscles bruiseinto a fleshy pulp with all the bullshitand the fighting and bitter woodof a bridge half built between where our castles once stood

there was a fire here long ago that once warmed usbut the fuel's all been spentwhat i would give to go back to the beginningbefore we took the withdrawal from that bank of lies.

Well to me, every moment is one that needs meaning. I'm not okay with neutral and I never have been. Going with the flow has never seemed like progress to me. If all of the waves are moving towards the beach, then I want to be the one that makes it first, or stays behind in utter defiance.

I truly find that we don't have time on this world to be doing anything without any reason. Each action we take should have a reason and or a goal associated with it. If we're just waiting for something to happen then can we claim any responsibility over the life that we've made when we've reached its end? I think that making the world better is all of our responsibilities; whether it's by raising children to lead us into the future, bringing a business up to raise the economy, discovering the cure for cancer, building a camera that helps a family to remember all of its singular moments, or teaching fourth graders. Our lives are all about discovery and making things for our brothers and sisters in life better.

I don't think this is done without risks. California's firefighters came together over the past month to fight a series of fires throughout the southland and central valley. During the fires, I was sadly not there for my family and friends caught outside of their houses, but on business in Northern California. These times are frustrating to me, not just because of the anxiety from the possible human loss, but from my inability to do anything about it. Through teamwork and leadership, they were put out and people's lives, houses, families were saved.

I'm of the belief that I'd rather risk everything making a decision, then to lose everything through inaction. With that in mind, what sorts of methods can California employ to keep disasters such as these from occurring again but catching us in a time when the resources aren't available?

I hold that California is one of the most richly diverse cultures in the United States. Along with this is one of the most richly diverse collection of plants, wildlife, and climates.

So, here's an idea, Southern California: let's plant a tree. No not a flower. Let's plant a tree.

22nd October 2007

1:47am:
I want to start this off with something that was told to me over a conversation at a bar in North New Jersey a year ago: I'm in no way sober.

It's not something that I often display, but it's one of those things that I absolutely need to be able to say right now.

So, you know how everyone sabotages themselves from the relationships that they truly want to hold dear? Well maybe not everyone, but I do and if you relate to that then you might relate to me in some way. How many readers do I have again? oh... right... one including me. Sad, but at least I know that my readers are 100% devoted.

I'm sitting in a hotl right now, composing this, when I'd love to have a guitar in my arms, cradling a song to the heavens or wishing in some romantic disney way that things were like thery were in some better age. When faeries whispered on trees and their entrance made my smile show up like pennies on the ground... Sometimes shiny, rarely ever payed attention to, and definitely stepped on.

Wow, that came out synical. I think I'm just freeform writing, biting, watching at the seemswhen sighting slighting breathing to me seems desperate, alone... dealthly and coldwanting to pass in to eternal lifht.

We just aren't the same when that internal monologue stops ruling us out, but are we better? are we worse? Seriousuly although our morals guide us to act in certain mayus, without having a punishment, the idea that we are going to do something as a part of somet greater matter is impressve beyond all rights.

I think I need to re ecamping what people think about me, not because I plan value coming from them. but I reall think that the gils ill one day be correctly rightyness.

Wow... that last drink is setting itself up... i'd never really tried myspace that way. I t0hureoi;;;;;;erkkkk

17th October 2007

8th October 2007

1:32am: an official statement on my last post.
I have been writing a series of articles on california women recently in order to formulate my thoughts on the matter. Due to recent conversations, I feel I must at least explain one of them. Referring specifically to my article concerning what I want in a woman, I admit that my priorities are fucked up.

Essentially, career really does take priority for me right now. I have my selected individuals which I enjoy spending time with and that sometimes pulls me away, but people wonder why I push so strongly with work. The first reason is that I really do feel comfortable with my ability to do at least that correctly. Those of you which are close know my tendency to go to work when I'm having trouble in other areas of my life. It's only when I really care about a situation that I'm able to really pull away and say that I need to spend time with dealing with the problem as opposed to letting it float away.

I'm not staying on topic very well... part of the reason is because I know certain people will read this and it may raise questions. If it does, ask me... seriously, I'd rather clarify verbally. I'm in no ways a writer, nor do I think that I express things like this in writing very well unless I've spent hours on it. Verbal communication is key for me.

Probably more important though is the combinatorial effects of my mother, father, brian and bruce in my life. You see, my mother and father both spent way too much time working throughout my childhood. But I respect them so much for it. I never had to worry about finances, or wonder whether tuition money would be there. I could concentrate on the things that were important to me. Because my mother and I spent time together in the car for 2 hours a day, I still had that time to communicate and make that connection with my parents. "My parents don't even care about me"... I would have never said that in my life. Then I look to my uncle bruce who is a mixture of hard working engineer and family man that I really strive to meet or exceed in that way of balancing. Throughout the first twelve years of marriage he worked his ass off... he still does, never stopped. But he needed to so that his wife could have the freedom to be a mother to the children. The mother that was home, taking her kids to practice, helping out at school, etc.

I don't know where I'm going to end up, but I know that I can't have the family that I want be happy unless I'm putting things together now. If that means that I'm spending 80 plus hours a week at work or thinking about work, so be it.

A final thought: My job is stressful, but I love it. It challenges me, it drives me to push myself to my limits. These are the limits that I wouldn't ever see in any other environment. So yes, I may have to complain about work sometimes, tell me if I do it too much, but I really do love it and I know that I'm doing something that will pave the road for my family someday.

26th September 2007

7:40pm: "What do you want in a girl?"
This is what my coworker asked of me. What struck me more what he said later "what do you have in common with them... You're in the tech field and work 60+ hours a week. 80 at times. Women aren't like that."

Women aren't like that? Why aren't they like that? Are they really not like that?

Typically in American society women haven't been raised to bring in the bread, so to speak. They have been historically trained as wives. But in today's society we are trying to bring equality to the expectations, right?

Men really can't bring in the income for a family of five as easily as he could in the fifties. I would say that it would be near impossible to have five people survive on a 50,000 salary. I know how difficult it is to comfortably survive on my salary. With a car payment of 700 a month, rent for another 1000, you can imagine it can get tight sometimes.

So women can't really be expected to be just housewives anymore. But in my nights on the town, I don't meet a lot of women who are as business oriented as I am. Do I have my priorities fucked up? admittedly so, in comparison to the rest of the world it seems. Men and women, why are we a nation of such leisure? When we are in our twenties we can stay up for 40 hours straight sleep for eight and be back to it all over again. We can stay up for 120 hours if we need to. I've done it. Don't ask. There is always a better future to be made and it doesn't come from relying on the money that's already there. It relies on you and your effort.

So to answer your question: I want someone who values time as much as I do. Someone who can challenge me intellectually, emotionally, and physically. And if not... feel free to take a walk.

It's funny how you can get to the point where the only thing leftis to crawl and beg forgiveness.Where there isn't anything left to do but swallow your pride and admit thatwhatever slight was there, must be your own.And it tightens in your own throat as the words come outand the eyes in the face with the tears of the one drowning you doesn't look any more like the friend you once had.

And you wish you had the moment again. To not be so vulnerable and to not have risked it all and lost. And in a moment you don't care again as you risk the world to tear it all down again. You'd destroy the castle to save the sparkles of dust in the sky... to stuff them all in a bottle with your heart and give it to her if only she would just take it. Not even to return something in trade. But to see that you have fallen from your cloud and don't want to get up. That the world is no longer what it was before you met her and all you have left is to know her and see that she made a difference in your life.

But she doesn't hear the clamour of the bells in the distance, and the castle goes unnoticed. The stardust in your eyes turns to sand that burns and cuts into the harshest of sorrows and nothing is left. You've turned the world upside down and there's no one there beside you. For she gave you more than she could ever understand simply by being there. Your sword in your hand and horse underneath, she gave you a reason to ride. A reason to cross the world and back and to slay those many dragons. She gave you a blanket for your shoulders, young slayer in your hunting winter nights. A pillow to rest your head and think . She gave you what you needed when you needed it until and she had so much more to give. She gave you the arrows to destroy the dragon that kept her hidden away. And you shot the arrow into the sky to puncture the heart of the dragon. It flew and flew and flew twisting and delighting in its fancy free dance finally knowing that she would be free and the dragon would be gone. And you saw the shards flying. The glass fell. And she had nothing left to cover herself. The sky tore upon itself and rained down from heaven in blood. And you ... given reason to save her... well you did the most harm....? you tore the sky asunder and brought it raining down.

So now you think your words can do anything young prince?

you sit by her bedside praying. An even rythmic beep in the room as iv's and other such tubes run to and from her. "She'll be fine", the man in white says to you. "You need to go home... you aren't making things any better for her, you being here"... and it fades to angry screaming over the phone that you can't quite hear. It's not real. The silence screams at you at her door and the words go to fast for you to understand. Four tires screach in the parking lot as she's left behind and a beach comes toward you faster and faster. Your steed underneath running to the shore... running away from where she lays...running to the beach... away from ... to.... back forth... somewhere... somewhy and it's not very clear at all anymore as salt water is in the air and bile burns in your nose. Your knees hitting pavement as wave after wave of nausea hits.

You've done the one thing that you promised you would never do. When you swore that unspoken oath to not ever hurt her you never knew you would be wrong.

and your stardust bottle lies at her doorstep every day. And she steps over it. She picks up her paper in the morning not even seeing the tiny glass or the ribbon that's been so painstakingly tied to it.

Anything for her to see your bottle. pick it up. see it as good and smile. just once. Anything for her to see your bottle and smash it to the floor. but it goes unnoticed.

She lies comatose, unhearing. You broke her sky. Her prettiest gift of all.

I began writing a letter to you earlier. I couldn't even write in first person.

When the words get mixed upand you can't think of yourself...When you don't want your words as your own

23rd September 2007

11:49pm: gas station america
Welcome to california, america. The land I love and but where I pretty much can't get any 'sleep'. I don't want to go over nor-cal or so-cal tonight, but I think I'd like to touch on city-cal, just a bit. I don't like getting off of the freeway at 12:01 and having a fucking gas station being closed. I never thought there would be a city that the policy actually existed, but La Jolla, I now see and acknowledge you.

Let me move on though. The other night I was in a chevron in the OC picking up a lighter or some such on my drive south. Two gorgeous women step out of their car and into the shop wearing lingerie. Way too little clothing, but still... wonderful looking. Which gets me to my topic.

We fill up on gas to make our cars get us from here to there, but when we get a shirt, we might want to think about a gas station. All gas stations have two rules. One: no smoking. Fuck that rule, make your own decisions. Two: No topping off... so when you're filling up in your tube tops or midriff shirts, your juicy shorts or short skirts: please follow that rule. I will make a promise that I won't wear tighty-whities ever. Please... consider the ramifications of what you're putting that lycra-spandex poly blend through when you stretch to get in it. If you can't pull off juicy... don't wear it. You'll look beautiful in a pair of slacks or even some jeans

21st September 2007

2:51am: California Women
You don't have to be a Californian to love it here, but apparently you have to love plastic. I love plastic; an Amex that makes life just a little bit easier, the wrinkle free poly-blends that make our lives easier. I don't understand the use of our society to find more perfect breasts than what come naturally upon a woman's body. Friends, there is nothing made more perfect than a woman who is comfortable with herself in her own body, but we are taking that perfection and forcing down yet another idea of 'not-good-enough' into the over-absorbent sponge of our women's minds.

"Give me your honest opinion... do you like my rack?"Yes. Your breasts are perfect. Your smile is perfect. Your hips, your thighs, your ass is perfect. Your slouch over the bar for yet another drink to try to convince yourself that you're good enough for him, isn't. Your constant questioning in the dark before you go to sleep whether he's still interested in you, isn't.

Ladies, I don't like breasts. I love a girl that catches my eyes from across the room and knows that she doesn't have to ask me to reassure her. I love a girl that doesn't need an hour in front of the mirror to figure out if the slink in her dress is good enough to go home with someone at the end of the night. In short: I love you ladies as you come before you doubt yourself. I love you when you show me that you are a complete person with a body and mind and heart that you love for yourself.

Gentlemen. Next time you take your significant other out, remember that she doesn't have to dress up to be your arm candy. She is your gift when you wake up in the morning. And when you pay for dinner at the end of the night, expect the only plastic that she should ever have to be a credit card.